


Spring Night (oh so wrong)

by CandiceWright



Series: My little merthur stories [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s04e09 Lancelot Du Lac, but it's classy smut, it's smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandiceWright/pseuds/CandiceWright
Summary: Because ever since Gwen left Arthur’s looks have been hotter than his touches, his few words filled with unspoken promises that Merlin is scared to take. He’s scared because he doesn’t want it to be just a remedy for his fractured pride, doesn't want it to be done out of spite. But he does want it, he really does. And now Arthur's gaze is heavy upon him, making his body shiver in anticipation and all he can think is this is wrong,wrong.But then Arthur tells him to come to his bed, and how could Merlin say no to that?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: My little merthur stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1449604
Comments: 34
Kudos: 329
Collections: The Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019





	Spring Night (oh so wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting smut (though not the first time writing it) so I hope you like it! 
> 
> Written for The Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019

It's been two weeks since Gwen left and Merlin and Arthur barely speak. Merlin understands, he really does. Arthur’s hurt and he needs space. And Merlin, as ironic as it sounds, was born to serve him, so he’ll oblige, he’ll give him the space he needs. But he can’t help missing their banter, their looks, the fleeting touches that light his skin on fire. And Merlin knows, he _knows_ Arthur just had his heart broken and thinking about him like that is selfish.

It's also so very wrong. 

But, Gods, he can’t do anything about it. 

He knew it the first time he woke up in a haze, his sheets sticky and wet, his heartbeat frantic. He tried, oh how he tried to forget it, to bury his feelings in the dark corner of his mind. But they are overwhelming in their nature and he can't help but have them very present, especially due to his proximity to the King.

Now he walks into Arthur's chambers carrying a recently cleaned and polished pile of armour and Arthur is on his bed and he’s looking at Merlin. It's been like this for two weeks, the air thick with what Merlin first thought was grief but now he knows to be something else. Because ever since Gwen left Arthur’s looks have been hotter than his touches, his few words filled with unspoken promises that Merlin is scared to take. He’s scared because he doesn’t want it to be just a remedy for his fractured pride, doesn't want it to be done out of spite. But he does want it, he really does. And now Arthur's gaze is heavy upon him, making his body shiver in anticipation and all he can think is this is wrong, _wrong._

But then Arthur tells him to come to his bed, and how could Merlin say no to that? 

He sits on the edge, his body so tense that Arthur is sure to have noticed. But the King is having none of it, so he beckons him closer and closer still until their thighs are pressed against each other and suddenly the thought that it's already spring passes Merlin's mind because he feels warm, he feels _alive_. Arthur places his hand over the leg that’s touching his own and Merlin is suddenly very aware of the roughness of the fabric of his breeches, of the softness of the one of his neckerchief, of the beads of sweat rapidly forming in the back of his neck where they slick dark strands of rebellious hair. Then Arthur says his name and Merlin’s valiant efforts of not looking at him are thrown out the window. But he’s ultimately happy that they are because Arthur's mouth covers his own and it's wrong, oh so very wrong. But, however wrong it may be, it feels right. 

Merlin isn’t shy then anymore and all of the uncertainty in his movements dissipates, kissing Arthur back with his entire being, like branding him because, _goddammit_ , he loved Gwen but he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else having Arthur like this, so vulnerable, so wild. 

They fight with their kisses like they always do, masking their deep and mutual devotion with roughness. Arthur slips one hand under Merlin’s tunic, a silent way of asking for permission and Merlin gladly gives it to him, helping him with the laces and pulling the obscene fabric over his head. Arthur looks wrecked: his pupils are blown out in lust and his mouth is hanging slightly open and Merlin can only assume he looks the same. Arthur’s eyes are now hungry, looking at the newly discovered patch of unclaimed skin with the urge to conquer that runs through his royal veins. And he does, oh how he does, because there he is, tasting, touching, feeling, and Merlin can hardly believe it can be like this, so good, so right. Merlin then is reminded of the unfairness of their situation and divests Arthur of his clothing too, and with that, they’re even. 

They stop for a second, their bodies glued together because neither of them could stand the distance right now. But then the reality of what they’re about to do hits them and Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes, and it’s then that Merlin sees the guilt, _that damned guilt_. He decides to do something about it because they've already gone too far to back down. So he grabs the vial of oil he spotted earlier by the bed and straddles his King without shame, leaving Arthur open-mouthed and so very relieved. He then coats his hands and reaches behind him, knowing in theory what he should do but not truly being believing that he really is, _he really is doing it._

He makes his fingers disappear into his own body and Arthur eagerly follows his movements with his gaze. But he soon gets tired of being a passive spectator and decides to take the initiative, coating his own hands and joining his fingers to Merlin's. Arthur's fingers are foreign, but they feel so, so much better than his own, like they were made to be inside him forever. It’s when his owns finger stop feeling like enough that Merlin takes his hands out and grabs Arthur’s hair, holding on for dear life. It doesn’t take long until Arthur hits a very sensitive spot inside him and a sound is torn from his throat can only be described as _animal_. Arthur hisses in pain at the force of Merlin’s tugs to his hair but Merlin doesn’t notice, far too lost in pleasure for such a thing. Then Arthur takes his fingers out without a word and presses himself to his entrance and Merlin can do nothing but reach out to guide him into his body because he has to have him there, _needs_ to keep him as close as possible. 

It hurts at first, he would be lying if he said it doesn't. But the pain makes Merlin realize that it’s real, that Arthur is really inside him, it’s not just another one of his dreams. Not with Arthur under him, pressed to his body as if he would die by letting him go, not when his grip on his waist is sure to leave bruises, sweet and sour reminders of what the night brought. 

He starts bouncing up and down, the movements leaving him more in display than earlier, but he can't bring himself to care. The angle is a bit too good, too perfect. So good, in fact, that he can’t keep it up for long, his legs giving out under him, his entire body shaking with pleasure. Arthur takes that as an incentive to turn him over, now letting himself be on top, no longer worried about Merlin's willingness for it had already been more than proven. Merlin smiles at him for a second and that's all the encouragement Arthur need to start thrusting again, fast, hard, unrelenting. 

And Merlin sees that he is at the edge of a cliff. He knows he's bound to fall. And the fall is going to be sweet, oh so sweet, but it’s also sure to kill him. But he guides his hand to where he’s hard and aching regardless because _what a way to go_ and Arthur groans loudly, batting it away to replace it with his own. 

And it’s that that pushes him over, and he starts to fall in white strings of pure pleasure, Arthur following closely behind, filling him up completely, ruining him thoroughly.

In the aftermath, Merlin’s brain barely catches up to the fact that they didn’t speak a word during this whole thing and they continue to not do so. Words aren’t necessary right now. They’ll have to talk about it eventually, he knows, and maybe then he’ll feel some kind of twisted guilt. But _goddamnit_ , right now, Merlin can’t regret a thing. Because right after Arthur regains his breath he captures his mouth in a devastating kiss. A kiss that Merlin knows, feels, is just for him. It’s then that he understands. Arthur is just like him, hanging in that fragile string between morality and desire. He's been wanting this as much as he, but was too scared to let himself go, terrified of what would happen if he lost.

But today they both lost. 

They surrendered to temptation. 

And it's far more meaningful than just two friends indulging in mutual pleasure. Their feelings go too deep, their connection too strong, both possessing too much of each other. It’s wrong, they both know. Arthur should be married to Gwen now, kissing her soft lips and tracing her curves. Instead, they both lay together, Arthur's tongue caressing Merlin's. 

They know the nature of what they just did to be inherently perverted and wrong, so wrong. But damn it, if being wrong felt like this, like Arthur's kisses, hot and sweet and passionate and like they’re worth an eternity in hell, well. 

If that’s what being wrong means, then Merlin never wants to be right.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be shy about leaving a comment ;)


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